


something old, something new

by thistidalwave



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Love Actually AU, Misunderstandings, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistidalwave/pseuds/thistidalwave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor really needs to get over himself before he fucks everything up. Here he is, shopping with his best friend just days before said best friend gets married, for the suit he’s going to wear <i>while getting married</i>, and all Taylor can think about is how much he wishes he wouldn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something old, something new

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flawsinthevoodoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawsinthevoodoo/gifts).



> hi flawsinthevoodoo! Thanks for the awesome prompt; I've always wanted to fix this Love Actually storyline, and I honestly had a lot of fun doing it. I hope you enjoy!

“What do you think of this one?” Jordan asks, stepping out of the changing room in yet another suit. Taylor thinks it looks pretty similar to the last six he tried on.

“It’s good,” he says.

Jordan sighs, looking in the mirror. “That’s what you’ve said about all of them,” he says. “I think I’m looking for more than _good_ for the suit I’m getting married in.” 

Taylor shrugs. “Ryan will think you look hot no matter what, so.” 

He must sound more bitter than he meant to, because Jordan immediately turns and gives him a look. “Okay, seriously, man,” he says. “What is your problem with Ryan?” 

“Nothing,” Taylor says quickly. He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I don’t have a problem.” 

“Sometimes I almost believe you when you say that,” Jordan says, shaking his head as he goes back into the changing room. 

As soon as the door swings closed behind Jordan, Taylor sits down on one of the chairs and takes a deep breath, putting his face in his hands and scrubbing at it. He really needs to get over himself before he fucks everything up. Here he is, shopping with his best friend just days before said best friend gets married, for the suit he’s going to wear _while getting married_ , and all Taylor can think about is how much he wishes he wouldn’t.

“Okay,” Jordan says, pushing the door open, “listen. If you can give me one good reason not to marry him, then I won’t.” 

Taylor stares. He doesn’t know anything about fashion, but the suit Jordan is wearing now is miles better than all the rest of them. Something about the cut or—Taylor has no idea. “That’s the one,” he says.

Jordan turns and frowns into the mirror for a moment. “Really? Wait,” he turns back. “Don’t try and distract me.”

Taylor holds back a sigh. The truth is that there’s no reason Jordan shouldn’t marry Ryan. Ryan is perfect—hot, smart, funny, nice, everything anyone could ever want. It’s just that Taylor wants him, too, and that’s why he’s pretty much the worst best friend in the world.

Jordan is searching Taylor’s face like he can figure him out just by looking at him. If anyone could, Taylor thinks, it would be him, but this is a secret he’s been keeping for a long time. 

Taylor shakes his head. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t marry him,” he says. He swallows, trying to get his mouth to stop feeling like a barren wasteland.

Jordan keeps looking at him for a long moment. Taylor looks back, gaze steady, and eventually Jordan’s shoulders drop and he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly. He almost sounds resigned, though Taylor can’t imagine why he would be. Jordan turns back to the mirror and smooths down the lapels of his suit jacket. “You really think this one?”

“Bro, I _know_ that one,” Taylor says. 

Jordan grins, and Taylor smiles too, ignoring the way his heart clenches. If he can’t be with Ryan, he should be damn glad that Jordan gets to. He just has to keep on reminding himself of that.

—

Jordan tries to peer around Taylor and into the hall where various friends and family are all congregated, and Taylor looks up from fiddling with his video camera settings to punch him in the shoulder. “Stop it,” he says, trying to be stern.

Jordan makes a wounded face. “Did you see him?” he asks, voice a panicked whisper. 

“Breathe,” Taylor says instead of answering the question. He did, in fact, see Ryan on his way over to Jordan’s side of the hall, and he looks even better than Taylor was expecting—and he was expecting him to look handsome and hot as hell. Ryan made eye contact and looked like he was maybe going to wave, and Taylor turned away as fast as possible. He really needs to focus on not being an awful friend to Jordan at his wedding. “He’s not gonna leave you at the altar, dude.” 

Jordan rolls his eyes. “I _know_ , but—”

“No,” Taylor says with all the patience he can muster. He flicks the video camera to record and holds it up. He mostly brought it to have something to do with his hands, but if it’ll distract Jordan right now, that’s a good use for it as well. “Tell the camera how you’re feeling.” 

“I’m just excited,” Jordan says, and Taylor softens. Jordan _does_ look excited; like, if Taylor was a certain kind of sappy person, he would say Jordan is glowing. And they’re not even fucking married yet. Jesus, Taylor needs to fast foward this to the part where he’s drunk at the reception. 

“Of course you are, bud,” he says, teasing. “Any final words to life without a ball and chain?” 

Jordan grins. “I said goodbye to _that_ ages ago, and I haven’t missed it. Is it time yet?” 

Taylor looks at his watch just as the song that will cue them to start walking in begins. “There it is,” he says. He holds up his fist, and Jordan bumps it. 

They’ve bucked with tradition, since that shit is all about straight people, and both wedding parties are filing in from opposite sides of the hall, walking down one side of the gathered people and then in front of them to meet in the middle. 

Taylor films the entire time he’s walking, just because, and he gets a pretty sick shot of the audience all rising together when Ryan and Jordan start walking in. He pans over them and settles on Ryan. He’s grinning across the room at Jordan, and when Taylor glances up from the camera screen, Jordan is grinning back. Taylor intends to get some footage of Jordan walking as well, but he zooms in on Ryan a bit and gets distracted trying to frame him perfectly, and then they’ve both made it all the way to the front, still smiling dumbly at each other. 

It’s a nice wedding, and Taylor’s not just saying that because he has an obligation to do so. He’s attended a few weddings in his life, and Ryan and Jordan’s is the perfect balance of cute readings and heartfelt vows, and it doesn’t last so long that everyone gets bored. 

It also helps that he spends most of it staring at Ryan through his video camera screen and resolutely not thinking terrible pining thoughts. No matter what Taylor’s feelings may be, Ryan’s cheekbones will always be flawless, and that is a true comfort. 

—

Halfway through the reception, Taylor is pleasantly drunk and has a hell of a lot of footage of Ryan doing things on his video camera. He’s kind of distantly aware of it, in that he keeps thinking _I can’t let anyone see this ever I should probably delete it except no I can’t do that because Ryan but I can’t let anyone…_ and on and on. 

Taylor does his drunken approximation of dancing with the guys, which is fine because none of the guys can dance either, and then the song changes to a slow one, and all the guys break off to go dance with their significant others. That. Well. Whatever.

Taylor sits down at a table near the edge of the dance floor and tries not to think too hard. He considers going to get another drink, but getting back up seems like too much effort. 

Jordan and Ryan are swaying in the middle of the dance floor, arms around each other and faces close together. It’s pretty much the perfect moment, so Taylor starts recording it, telling himself that it’s just because he’s fairly sure he saw the professional videographer leave earlier.

Taylor zooms in and watches through the camera’s screen as Ryan says something that makes Jordan laugh loud enough that Taylor can hear him. His smile lingers after, bright and so familiar to Taylor, and Ryan is softly smiling back. Taylor forces himself to look away. A moment later, he stops recording, too, putting his camera down on the table.

“Hey,” Luke says a minute later, when Taylor is back to staring at Ryan. He sits down next to Taylor and offers him a closed can of beer, which Taylor takes gratefully. “‘Sup?” 

Taylor shrugs, cracking open the beer. “Was too fucking lazy to go get another drink myself, thanks, dude.” 

“No problem,” Luke says. Taylor holds his can out, and Luke bumps his own against it. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Taylor says. 

They sit in silence, drinking and staring out at the dance floor. Taylor is pretty sure that this fucking slow song is never going to end. He’s going to die alone here in this chair, watching Jordan and Ryan be stupidly in love.

“Are you in love with him?” 

Taylor starts, jerking his head around to look at Luke in surprise, and then frowns. “Am I…” he repeats slowly.

“In love with him?” Luke repeats.

Taylor forces himself to relax instead of getting defensive. Fuck, he’s so obvious. “Who?” he asks with all the nonchalance he doesn’t feel.

“Jordan,” Luke says, and Taylor blinks. That’s—he hasn’t even considered _that_. He laughs, relieved.

“No,” he says. “No, I’m not in love with Ebs.” 

Luke nods. “Okay,” he says. “I just thought—well, I guess it doesn’t matter. That’s good. Stop looking like such a fucking wreck over here then, dude.” 

“Fuck you, I’m not a wreck,” Taylor says, rolling his eyes. 

“Whatever you say,” Luke says. 

He’s _totally_ not a wreck, no matter how doubtful Luke sounds. Luke doesn’t know nearly as much as he thinks he does—thinking Taylor is in love with Jordan is a case in point. Taylor _loves_ Jordan, absolutely, but that’s because they’re best friends and Taylor would probably fucking take a bullet for him or whatever. 

Taylor considers, for a moment, the idea of being in love with Jordan, and he finds himself thinking about Jordan’s laugh. He frowns to himself as he looks out at the dance floor again, studying Jordan’s face as he leans in closer to Ryan, and his heart skips a beat in a way he can’t and doesn’t want to fully process. 

He shuts down that line of thinking immediately. He already knows he’s tragically in love with Ryan, and he can’t be in love with _both_ of them. That would just be pathetic. 

It’s gotta be the alcohol fucking with his judgement. The obvious thing to do about _that_ is to drink some more, so Taylor starts on convincing Luke to join him in doing exactly that. Beer isn’t going to cut it for this situation anymore, and besides, there isn’t an open bar for nothing.

—

Taylor is still kind of annoyed with Jordan and Ryan for getting married so close to Christmas—he already used his good gift idea up on their wedding present, so now he’s going to have to get creative or something. The only thing that keeps him from getting too mad about it is the knowledge that they fucked themselves over as well—when they get back from their honeymoon barely two weeks before Christmas, they haven’t done _any_ of their shopping.

“You didn’t think to just buy people tacky souvenirs or something while you were off enjoying your newly wedded bliss?” Taylor teases as they’re walking through the mall after Jordan called Taylor in a panic about needing backup for this shopping thing.

“We can’t give people souvenirs as sincere holiday gifts,” Jordan says. “At least, that’s what Ryan said.” He rolls his eyes at Taylor. 

“I saw that,” Ryan says mildly. “And don’t start, you know it’s true.” He breaks off, heading for Hallmark, and Jordan and Taylor have no choice but to follow. Ryan flips through a few cards in the front display, and then adds, “Besides, newly wedded bliss was _exactly_ what we were enjoying.”

“ _Ryan_ ,” Jordan says, pained. 

Taylor can’t help it; he snorts loudly. When he glances over at Ryan, Ryan is grinning at him, and Taylor looks away quickly. “Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat. “What were we looking for next?” 

He doesn’t get an immediate response, and when he looks over, Jordan and Ryan are doing some kind of silent married communication thing. Taylor looks awkwardly back at the card rack, flipping idly through a few of them and getting his hand covered in glitter in the process.

“We need cards for everyone,” Jordan says as Taylor tries to wipe glitter onto his jeans. “Hallsy, can you help Ryan pick some out while I go see if I can find a gift for him?”

Oh, no, Jordan is _not_ doing this. “Don’t you need help finding something good enough?” Taylor says. “Ryan can pick cards by himself, right?” 

“Definitely not,” Jordan says.

“I suck at picking cards,” Ryan says, flashing a bashful smile. God, Taylor hates his life. 

“Thanks, dude,” Jordan says, slapping Taylor on the shoulder and _leaving_ , just like that, as if Taylor had agreed to this. It’s not like he’s going to jump Ryan in the middle of Hallmark or something, but like, still. He almost convinced himself he doesn’t have feelings for Ryan at all while he was off on his honeymoon, but he can’t tell himself that when Ryan is right there, being perfect and funny and great. Christ.

“So,” Ryan says. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans awkwardly, and Taylor thinks he looks cute. “How have you been?” 

“Oh, uh, good, just the usual, you know, fine,” Taylor says. “How do you feel about moose?” He grabs a card off the display and offers it to Ryan.

“This is a reindeer,” Ryan says, but he takes the card anyway. 

Taylor scoffs. “Same difference. What about polar bears?” 

“Sure,” Ryan says, and Taylor grabs three of that one and hands them over. 

“Ornament things?” Taylor asks, already selecting a variety. 

“Okay,” Ryan says. “Hey, Taylor, listen. I had a question for you.” 

Taylor freezes, hand outstretched, and looks sidelong at Ryan. “Yeah?” Fuck, he’s going to literally die if Ryan asks why he’s acting so weird. 

“Our wedding videographer was kind of shit, to be honest,” Ryan says, and Taylor lets his hand drop, relaxing slightly. “Like, left early and didn’t even get very good shots of the wedding stuff. Total waste of money. Anyway, I know you were filming the whole time, so I was wondering if I could see what you got?” 

Fuck. Forget being relaxed. “I, uh,” Taylor fumbles, trying to figure out how to let Ryan down gently. He can’t let Ryan _see_ his fucking shame footage of his _cheekbones_. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he says weakly.

Ryan’s eyebrows furrow. “Why not? It’s fine if you didn’t get anything good, it’ll be better than nothing.”

“Not really,” Taylor says quickly. “It’s totally blurry and shit, you know, I was drunk for most of it, so.” He thinks about the crystal clear close-up shots of Jordan and Ryan dancing and cringes internally. 

“Okay, but you weren’t drunk for the _ceremony_ ,” Ryan says. “I think I would’ve noticed.” 

He’s totally right, and Taylor has no idea how to convince him otherwise. God damn it. “Fine,” he says. “You can come over and check it out some time.” Maybe Ryan will forget (not fucking likely). Maybe Taylor can delete the files and pretend it was an error (also not fucking likely). Maybe he can tell Ryan there was an error and then never let Ryan anywhere near his computer (yeah, that’s more like it). 

“Awesome, thank you so much,” Ryan says, pleased.

“This card for Jordan?” Taylor asks in the hopes of distracting him, holding up a card covered in hearts with a sappy greeting about being ‘forever lovers’ on the front. It looks more suited for Valentine’s Day than Christmas if it wasn’t for the scantily-clad cartoon Mr. and Mrs. Claus under the mistletoe.

“No,” Ryan says immediately, and then takes it, laughing. “God, this is awful.” 

“He’d think it’s funny,” Taylor says.

“True,” Ryan says, smiling fondly down at the card, and Taylor pretends his heart doesn’t hurt a little bit at the sight. Ryan tucks the card into the pile in his hands and directs his smile at Taylor. “Thanks, Taylor.”

Taylor’s heart leaps, and he ignores the fucking emotional whiplash once again. “It’s cool,” he says. He attempts a smile back, and if the way Ryan’s gets bigger is any indication, he actually succeeds for once.

—

Taylor kind of tries to forget the entire conversation, so when Ryan shows up at his door a couple days later, he’s genuinely surprised to see him. 

“Jordan didn’t come with you?” he asks as Ryan pushes his way into Taylor’s house without waiting for an invitation. 

Ryan turns and gives Taylor a weird look. “No,” he says. “And that was intentional, actually, because I wanted to talk to you.”

Taylor closes the door. “Oh?” he says. He feels a little sick. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “See, I think it would be good if we could be friends, you know? I know you don’t like me, and that’s fine, but we can’t keep being so awkward. We’re both in Jordan’s life forever, right, so.”

He looks at Taylor expectantly, and Taylor can’t do anything but nod. “Right,” he says. “Yeah.” He feels like laughing and crying at the same time. Ryan thinks he doesn’t _like_ him, fuck. Taylor is apparently way too good at hiding his feelings. He has no idea how he’s supposed to find the middle ground here.

“Friends?” Ryan asks, holding out a hand to Taylor.

“Friends,” Taylor agrees. He means to shake Ryan’s hand, but Ryan apparently has different ideas—he grasps Taylor’s hand and pulls him in for a proper bro hug. For a quick, incandescent moment, Taylor can feel Ryan’s warmth pressed against him as he slaps his back, and his brain short circuits for long enough that he almost forgets to pat Ryan back. 

“Okay, anyway,” Ryan says when they separate. Taylor feels like his face is on fire, but Ryan doesn’t seem to notice or be bothered at all. “Where’s that video?” 

“Oh, um,” Taylor starts, intending to spin his whole tale about the files being corrupted or something. 

“On your computer?” Ryan asks, making a beeline for Taylor’s laptop, which he left out on his kitchen table. 

_Stupid, stupid,_ Taylor thinks, even though he couldn’t have known Ryan was going to show up unannounced. “Um, no, I didn’t—”

Ryan slides his fingers across the mousepad, waking the computer up, and peers at the desktop. “Aha, J and R’s wedding, right here.” He sits down and looks up to raise his eyebrows at Taylor. “You were saying?” 

Taylor just shakes his head and watches as Ryan opens the folder and then double clicks on the first video file. He feels like he’s watching a trainwreck in slow motion. 

It starts off innocently enough—it’s just the floor and then Jordan’s face and Taylor’s voice asking how he’s feeling. “Oh,” Ryan says when Jordan answers that he’s excited. “That’s great, he looks great.” 

There’s a bunch of shaky footage of the audience and the shot of them standing that Taylor is totally still proud of, and then the camera pans to Ryan and zooms in, and Taylor looks away. God, everything after this is completely obvious.

Ryan doesn’t seem to see anything wrong. “I look pretty good,” he says, laughing slightly. “This is good, Taylor, thank you.” 

Taylor doesn’t trust himself to respond. The rest of that file is okay, because it’s just the wedding, and the fact that you never see Jordan’s face can be attributed to Taylor standing behind him, but then that ends and Ryan opens the next one. It starts off zoomed in on Ryan’s face, and Ryan says “Whoa,” when he sees it, glancing at Taylor, and Taylor wants to die. 

It doesn’t get any better from there. All the videos are just Ryan doing things—Ryan greeting people in the reception line, Ryan laughing at his best man’s speech, Ryan getting cake smushed into his face by Jordan, Ryan pouring himself a drink at the bar. 

At first Ryan was making commentary along to the video, but as he kept watching, he got quieter and quieter. By the time he starts watching the video of him and Jordan dancing, he’s glancing between the screen and Taylor in confusion.

“It’s all me,” he says. “It…”

“Yeah,” Taylor says, and he’s horrified to realize that his voice sounds kind of watery. Fuck, he can’t fucking _cry_ about it, not right now. Or ever, preferably. 

Ryan opens the last video, and they both watch in silence as the footage focuses on Ryan’s face as he waves goodbye to the guests that were remaining by the time he and Jordan got in the limo to leave the reception. On the video, Ryan laughs and yells an insult back at one of his friends, and Taylor’s heart clenches just like it did at that moment in reality. The video stops a second later.

Ryan turns around and looks right at Taylor. Taylor wishes he were a part of the floor. “But you never talk to me,” Ryan says, sounding confused and slightly accusatory. “You don’t like me.”

Taylor looks at a point somewhere over Ryan’s head and shrugs. “It, um.” He clears his throat. There’s no use trying to deny what they both know now. “It’s a self-preservation thing.” 

Ryan is quiet for a moment, then shakes his head. “Okay, can we… talk about this?” 

“No,” Taylor says quickly. There’s nothing in this world that he would like to do less. It’s not like a conversation would be at all productive; Jordan and Ryan are married, and they deserve to be. Taylor’s not going to fuck that up. “No, there’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” 

“Taylor—”

“You should probably just leave,” Taylor interrupts. When Ryan doesn’t move, he adds, “Please,” his voice cracking and making him feel like the most pathetic person on the face of the planet.

It takes a moment, but Ryan finally, mercifully gets up. He hesitates in the doorway like he’s going to say something, and Taylor braces himself, but then he doesn’t. He closes the door softly behind him, and Taylor lets the lump in throat escape as a quiet sob, then bites his lip like it’ll help him hold in the tears.

He sits down in the chair Ryan just left and wipes at his eyes. God, he’s stupid. 

He looks at the computer screen, where the folder of wedding videos is still open. He wants to delete them in a rage, but he can’t even bring himself to actually get angry. He’s the one who let himself get into this situation. He’s the one who didn’t stop himself from falling in love with his best friend’s boyfriend. He’s the one who couldn’t delete the files before Ryan could see them. 

He closes the laptop and puts his face in his hands. There’s no one to blame for this but himself.

—

Life goes on, no matter how badly you fucked up emotions-wise. Taylor concentrates on pretending everything is fine in the hopes that someday, eventually, it’ll be true. Thankfully, it being near Christmas means Taylor has a bit of a leeway period where he has a built-in excuse to avoid Jordan and Ryan, and everyone is busy enough that he doesn’t actually have to use it too much. 

Of course, it also means he doesn’t feel guilty about drinking wine, eating chocolate, and feeling sorry for himself in lieu of eating dinner alone two days before Christmas. He’s supposed to head to his parents’ the next day, but for now, chocolate and wine is totally a well-rounded meal. Wine is made of, like, grapes and shit, so. Taylor’s got this.

Just shy of two hours later, Taylor absolutely doesn’t have this. He’s maybe crying a little bit at the romantic comedy he’s watching. He wishes real life was like the movies—in the movies you just express your emotions with a grand romantic gesture, and then you win the object of your desire. Happy endings all round. 

In real life, all you get is cheap chocolate and the existential dread that comes along with being the cause of your own tragic feelings. Maybe, Taylor thinks, everyone should try and make life more like the movies. Maybe _he_ should make life more like the movies.

That’s how he ends up walking over to Jordan and Ryan’s place in the freezing cold Canadian winter, armed with a stack of printer paper and “Silent Night” loaded up on his phone, slightly drunk and very determined. He doesn’t have any illusions about his chances here, but it feels like a good idea. If he just gets this off his chest for real, then he can actually move on. 

When he arrives at his destination, he hits the doorbell before he can talk himself out of it and end up turning around to go home. It occurs to him, in the moment before the door opens, that he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Jordan answers the door.

Thankfully, it’s Ryan’s surprised face that greets Taylor. Inside the house, Jordan’s voice calls out, “Who is it?” 

Taylor quickly gestures for Ryan not to say anything and shows him his first piece of paper. He tracks Ryan’s eyes as he reads it, the messily scrawled Sharpie that says _‘say it’s carol singers’._ Ryan eyes Taylor in confusion. Taylor raises his eyebrows, a challenge, and Ryan frowns. “It’s carol singers,” Ryan says, loud enough for Jordan to hear. 

“Give ‘em a couple bucks and send them on their way,” Jordan yells back, just like Taylor thought he would. He fumbles a bit, then manages to hit play on “Silent Night”, turning up the volume. It’s kind of awkward to hold up the papers for Ryan and hold his phone at the same time, but he can manage. 

_‘with any luck, by next year’_ reads the first one, and Taylor waits for Ryan to nod slightly before swapping it for _‘i’ll be going out with one of these babes_ ’, and then again before he shows him the piece of paper with various male and female models sloppily cut out of a magazine and glued on. 

Ryan silently laughs a bit, his eyebrows still furrowed, and Taylor smiles.

_‘but for now, let me say’,_ reads the next paper, and the smile drops off Ryan’s face. ‘ _without hope or agenda’,_ Taylor shows him quickly, and then _‘just because it’s christmas’,_ which makes Ryan snort.

His expression goes serious again at _‘(and at christmas you tell the truth)’,_ and Taylor stays on that one for longer than necessary, steeling himself up. He takes long enough that Ryan looks like he’s going to say something, and that spurs Taylor into action. 

_‘to me, you are perfect,’_ the paper says, and Ryan shuts his mouth, eyes widening. Taylor bites his lip and shows him the next two in quick succession; _‘and my wasted heart will love you’_ is followed by _‘until you look like this…’_ and then a picture that Taylor printed off of a grisly looking mummy.

It makes Ryan laugh, which is all Taylor really wanted to do. The last piece of paper just says _‘merry christmas’_ , and Taylor holds it up for a few seconds before tucking his stack of paper under his arm. He doesn’t really know how to end this, so he just flashes a double thumbs-up and gives Ryan a rueful smile like an idiot. 

Ryan is just looking at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief, and Taylor awkwardly backs away with a wave and starts walking down the street in the direction he came from. “Silent Night” is still playing from the phone in his hand, but whatever. He did it. It’s time to get a hold of himself. 

“Hey!” Ryan yells when Taylor is halfway down the street, and Taylor freezes, spinning around. “Hey, hold on!”

“What…” Taylor says, watching Ryan run after him. He must’ve shoved his boots on fast, because the laces aren’t even tied, and Taylor walks back to meet him because he’s afraid Ryan will trip. 

“You can’t just show up and do that and then run away,” Ryan says when he’s caught up. 

Taylor’s sobered up a lot since he made the wine drunk decision to do this whole thing, but he’s still too drunk to really know what to say to that. “I… Ryan,” he says helplessly. “What else was I supposed to do?” 

“Come on,” Ryan says, grabbing Taylor’s arm and tugging him along. “It’s fucking cold out. We’re going inside to talk. And don’t you dare say there’s nothing to talk about, because that’s bullshit.” 

“But—” Taylor starts, and then he snaps his mouth shut when Ryan glares at him.

He hits stop on his phone as they’re walking back. “Silent Night” just doesn’t seem to suit the mood anymore. 

Jordan is standing in the doorway when they reach it. “What the hell?” he asks. “Taylor?” 

“Hi,” Taylor says dumbly. 

“It wasn’t actually carollers. Taylor came over to make some Christmas confessions,” Ryan tells Jordan, and Taylor hates everything in his life that led him to this moment. “I thought we could return the favour.”

_Wait, what?_ Taylor frowns, and the way Jordan nods like that makes perfect sense confuses him even more. 

“I’ll make hot chocolate,” Jordan says. “You look like you need it.” 

“I—” Taylor starts and then changes his mind. “Okay.” 

He takes off his coat and boots and lets them shepherd him to the kitchen table, where he sits and waits awkwardly while they put water on to boil and get mugs out of the cupboard. He’s still got the papers clutched in one hand, and he feels more and more stupid with every second that passes.

“Full disclosure,” he says after a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, “I’m sorta drunk right now. Or, like. I was drunk and I’m not as much anymore, but.” 

Neither of them look surprised. “I figured,” Ryan says, and Taylor nods. 

None of them say anything else until they’re all sitting down, mugs of hot chocolate in front of them. Taylor’s has mini marshmallows floating in the top the way he likes, and it’s kind of making him want to cry, which in turn is making him want to swear off drinking forever.

“So,” Ryan says, “Taylor. Do you maybe want to tell Jordan what you told me? Or show him?” 

Taylor cringes. It’s not like he hadn’t realized after being dragged inside that Jordan was going to know, but being aware of it and straight up having to tell your best friend to his face that you’re in love with his husband are two very different things. 

He takes the easier of the two options and shoves the papers across the table to Jordan. He watches long enough to see Jordan pick them up, and then he can’t look anymore. Fuck, he can’t believe he did this. How the fuck did he think this would fix anything? What the fuck. He should have all his privileges in life revoked. First and foremost: leaving the house. Second: communicating with people at all. 

“Is it just Ryan?” Jordan asks, breaking Taylor out of his extended mental self-flagellation. Taylor looks up and blinks at him. “That you… feel like this about?” 

The addition doesn’t really help Taylor process the question. “I…”

“He’s asking if you have any feelings toward him that aren’t friendship,” Ryan says patiently.

“Oh,” Taylor says. He thinks about the wedding, about Luke asking him the same thing and how he ignored the flutter in his chest, and he swallows, looking down into his hot chocolate. “I can’t be in love with both of you.” 

“You can’t?” Ryan asks, exchanging a look with Jordan. “Or you aren’t?” 

Taylor shrugs. They’re the same thing, really. 

“Well, shit, dude,” Jordan says. “If that’s true, I probably shouldn’t be able to be in love with both you and Ryan, but I seem to have been doing a pretty good job of it anyway.” 

Taylor stares. “You… _what_?” He feels like this must be a joke.

“I love you, you non,” Jordan says, not a whit of humour on his face. 

“You’re married,” Taylor says. He glances at Ryan. “To Ryan.”

Jordan rolls his eyes. “Well, I didn’t exactly think I had a chance with you.”

“What?” Taylor asks weakly. “So Ryan is just—”

“There’s no _just_ about Ryan,” Jordan interrupts, and that’s weirdly what makes Taylor start feeling better about this conversation. 

“I knew,” Ryan says, shrugging. “He kind of wears his heart on his sleeve, and I’m not blind.” The missing _’like you’_ is heavily implied. “And just because he loves you doesn’t mean he can’t love me, too.” 

Taylor nods, still trying to wrap his head around—well, everything.

“You, though,” Ryan says. “I honestly didn’t… I had no idea you even liked me.” 

Taylor shrugs awkwardly. “I liked you too much, so I was trying not to,” he says. “I didn’t want to be a shitty friend.” He laughs shortly. “Not sure that worked out too well for me.” 

“I don’t think you’re a shitty friend,” Jordan says. 

Ryan shakes his head. “Neither do I.” 

Taylor feels warmed all over by the praise, such as it is. “Well, thanks,” he says. “So, um. What are we supposed to do now?” 

“We make it work,” Ryan says, determined.

“Okay…” Taylor says slowly. “But what is ‘it’?” 

“I guess that’s what we have to figure out,” Jordan says. He flashes Taylor a huge smile, gap-tooth and all, and this time Taylor doesn’t ignore the way it makes his heart jump. Shit, he’s been dumb about this. He finds new and exciting ways to be an idiot every day, apparently. 

Ryan sips at his hot chocolate, looking thoughtful. “Well, I think the best option is for us all to be together equally.”

Taylor considers it, frowning to himself. This has all progressed faster than he can really keep up with, but he’s doing his best. He never would have considered a three-way relationship on his own, but he can’t deny he likes the idea of having both Jordan and Ryan. Jordan apparently would be fine with having Ryan _and_ Taylor, but—

“What about you?” Taylor asks Ryan. “I mean, being with me must sound… weird, right?” 

“Well, I’m not in love with you,” Ryan says, shrugging. “But I like you a lot, and Jordan loves you, and I think I could be if I tried. And if you gave me the opportunity.” 

Taylor can practically feel his heart expanding in his chest. Fuck, this is unreal. He ducks his head, still trying to process. “I think…” he says slowly. “I think I’d like to. Give you the opportunity, I mean.” 

When he looks up, both Ryan and Jordan are smiling at him. It’s a lot to handle, and Taylor has a moment to wonder what he’s gotten himself into before Jordan is standing and dragging Taylor to his feet as well so that he can give him a proper hug. 

Taylor hugs back, clinging hard, and tucks his nose into the crook of Jordan’s neck. He smells just like he always does, safe and familiar, and when they pull apart it seems like the easiest thing in the world to lean in to kiss him. He stops just short, though, and turns his head to look at Ryan, suddenly unsure. 

“Go on,” Ryan says to the unspoken question. “God knows he’s been waiting long enough.” 

Taylor wonders just how long that is, but he doesn’t have time to consider it much before Jordan is kissing him. It’s a good kiss, soft and careful and exactly how Taylor would’ve guessed it would be to kiss Jordan if he’d ever let himself think about it. 

“Fuck,” Jordan says when they break apart, heartfelt, and Taylor laughs. 

“Looks nice,” Ryan says, standing and walking over. Jordan immediately reaches out to him, though he keeps his other hand resting on Taylor’s hip. He takes Ryan’s hand and tugs him closer until he can wrap his arm around Ryan’s waist and pull him in to kiss him, first on the lips and then on the forehead, which makes Ryan laugh. 

“Okay,” Jordan says, looking determined, “now you two.”

Taylor swallows, suddenly nervous, but Ryan is still smiling when he leans in toward Taylor, and kissing the curve of his lips is one of the easiest things Taylor’s done in his life. Where kissing Jordan felt familiar even though it was new, kissing Ryan is a heady rush. 

“I think this is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten,” Jordan says when they break apart. 

“Good,” Taylor says, feeling slap-happy. “Because the present I got you is honestly shit.” 

They all burst into laughter. “Don’t worry,” Ryan says, giggling. “I’ll add your name to the one from me.” 

“I think this’ll work out just fine,” Taylor says. He can’t stop smiling, and honestly? He wouldn’t want to if he could.


End file.
